


Remember Me Always

by Chanolay



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chanolay/pseuds/Chanolay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After saving Thorin from Azog, Bilbo receives a flower in thanks that he comes to treasure like nothing else, including the ring. Once the Battle of Five Armies is over and Thorin dies, the little flower is even more dear to the hobbit's heart. Now all he has left to do is find the name and meaning of the five-petaled flower gifted to him by his one true love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember Me Always

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for seedysunflower on tumblr: Flower meanings and Thorin being culturally insensitive.
> 
> I know this isn't what you really wanted but I was listening to a sad song that gave me major feels and the angst just poured out. I hope you enjoy it all the same!

There used to be fifteen bodies around the fires but now they were thirteen less. Thirteen dwarves that talked endlessly and had no manners and laughed loud enough to wake the dead. Thirteen dwarves that sang songs long into the night and played instruments that had the ability to soothe the soul or enrage it with burning hate. But no longer were the nights so merry. No tales of abandoned halls, or hidden treasures, or gems that shone a thousand colours were told. No harp music played by the most honorable of kings. No more Thorin. No, there was only Bilbo and Gandalf now. Just the two of them, travelling the long and lonely road back to the Shire. 

“It would do you good to sleep, Bilbo,” Gandalf spoke, his words breaking the somber silence that Bilbo had cast upon them. His gaze was knowing and remorseful. Even the smoke from his pipe took no spectacular form, just puffs that drifted into the clear night sky above them and disappeared.

Bilbo looked at the wizard and shook his head. “Why don’t I take first watch, Gandalf? It would do you good to rest as well,” he suggested although the threats that lurked in the woods about them were few in number.  


“Very well then,” Gandalf answered as he pressed his thumb to the tobacco and put it out. It was not the usual custom of Gandalf to be so obedient but he knew the hobbit well and decided to do as instructed. The wizard settled down beneath the trunk of a large oak. He tugged his frayed hat low over his eyes and soon his breathing turned deep and steady.  


Bilbo gave a grateful smile to Gandalf’s sleeping form. He knew that his grief and regret were obvious to anyone who laid eyes on him and consequently all the more so to his wisest of companions. Absentmindedly, he reached into an inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a small folded piece of parchment. He opened it carefully and gazed at the little blue flower wilting within.  


It was Thorin who had given him the flower after Bilbo had valiantly saved his life from the blade of the pale orc’s minion. At the lively home of Beorn, Thorin had pulled Bilbo aside and issued formal thanks and as an afterthought, plucked a flower from a bush of many and handed it to the hobbit. The gesture prompted the beginning of true friendship between Bilbo and the dwarf king. And soon, that friendship had bloomed into a love that went silent and unacknowledged but always lingered after every word exchanged between the two. Even if those words were filled with spite and hatred and especially when they were regretful, apologetic, and the last to be uttered.  


Bilbo twirled the drying flower in between his fingers gently and paid no mind to the moisture in his eyes or the drops that fell to the forest floor. Nothing could ease his pain at forever losing the presence of two jovial princes and one most majestic and respected King Under the Mountain. His shoulders hunched at the memories and the tears flowed more freely, the flower stayed between his fingers, petals drooping as if they knew the hobbit’s pain and sadness.  


The journey back was not without danger but eventually they had arrived whole and healthy back to Bag End. Bilbo had to deal with the most detested Lobelia auctioning off his possessions and claiming his property but once all that was settled, life returned to normal. The sun shone through the round windows like they always did in the summer and everything seemed placid. Even Hamfast Gamgee came often to tend to Bilbo’s garden that he had maintained in the hobbit’s long absence. More than once, Bilbo joined the Gaffer outside amongst the plants and soil and discussed simple matters. They talked about how to handle the problem of aphids eating away at the sprouting vegetables and the birds that took their share when no one was around. And on one of these days, when Bilbo would lend company to the Gaffer, he remembered the pressed flower that always remained in his safest pocket.  


“Say,” Bilbo started, pulling the now dry and brown flower out and holding it to the sun, “do you know what this is? It used to be blue if that’s any help.”  


Hamfast took the flower from Bilbo’s hand and examined it closely. He looked at its front and back and then nodded with a firm conclusion.  


“’Tis a Forget-Me-Not, Mister Baggins sir!” He announced, proud with his botanical knowledge.  


Bilbo went still and almost could not withstand the rush of emotion that filled his body. He took the flower carefully from the Gaffer and bolted into his home. He shut the door tight behind him and fell to his knees. The coincidence made his eyes spill with tears but the irony made him laugh. His body racked with sobs and chuckles as he gripped the flower in his palm and held it to his lips.  


“Did he even know?” Bilbo asked to no one in between wet heaves but the thought only made him cry more. Those strong arms that Bilbo had yearned so much for, that deep voice that melted away any worries, and the gaze of those eyes that always looked so serious but always held love in them. “Forget? How could I?” His words were strangled.  


“I will,” he cried out, the real meaning of the flower coming to him from the depths of his memory, “I will remember you forever.” And forever he did until he too passed on, leaving only one remnant of their lost love behind in the world: a small and dry Forget-Me-Not.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's slightly cliche and I'm (sort of) sorry. 
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcome! (I need it too, since I'm not the best of writers)
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters and original story belong to Tolkien and this story idea belongs to seedysunflower.


End file.
